


Misconceptions

by InsaneTrollLogic



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneTrollLogic/pseuds/InsaneTrollLogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Angel Investigations Team forms circa season one of BTVS. Buffy does not handle it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misconceptions

By her third month at Sunnydale, Buffy’s already written Cordelia off. If she’s honest, she did it day one when she’d seen the way Cordelia treated Willow. But something calls her eyes to Cordelia’s table as she snags a tray of cafeteria food that appears to be a valiant (though failing) attempt at pork chops. Cordelia’s sitting next to a dark haired boy with a black eye. He’s too small to be a football player and the shirt’s too garish for him to be any part of Cordelia’s circle. Buffy frowns, watching as Cordelia touches the guy’s shiner. The guy bats her hand away and she slugs him in the shoulder in retaliation.

The two of them bicker quietly until Cordelia’s groupies find them, but by then Xander and Willow have made their way to Buffy’s table.

When she finally remembers to look back, the guy’s gone.

* * *

“What’s with Cordelia and the Hawaiian shirt guy?” Buffy swings her legs, textbook balanced in her lap. Physics today, no icky demons for the next twelve hours no matter what Giles says. She’d rather not fail the test tomorrow.

“Who?” Xander slams his book shut, all too happy to have an excuse. “Cordelia’s let herself be contaminated by something polyester?”

Willow rolls her eyes. “Come on, that’s Francis. You remember. Francis Doyle. He moved when we were in like third grade. I think his mom was groundskeeper or something for Cordelia’s house.”

“And now she’s using him as a manservant,” Xander finishes. “Which, when you think of it, is kind of showy even for—”

“Xander! Francis was nice. And he and Cordelia were like, total besties.”

“And she didn’t go full on Cord-zilla until middle school. You’re right, we may have found her weakness. It’s short guys with British accents.”

“I think he’s Irish.”

“It’s Cordelia!” Xander says. “We could be researching horrible monsters. Or attempting to figure out this word problem about a leaking vat of water. Instead we’re sitting here talking about Cordelia Chase!”

“You’re right,” Willow says, looking over to Buffy. “Hey! You heard anything from tall, dark and mysterious lately?”

“You mean Angel?” Buffy replies.

Xander buries his face in his hands.

* * *

Buffy doesn’t meet Francis Doyle until almost a week later. She’s turning the corner, about to head into the Bronze, and she plows into him with enough force to knock them both over.

He scrambles to his feet first, face flushed.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy says. “You know I don’t think we’ve met yet. You’re Cordelia’s friend, right? Francis?”

She sticks out a hand. He stares at it for almost a full minute before reaching back to shake it. His hand is clammy in her own, the texture rough, but the grip is stronger than she expected. “I tend to go by Doyle,” he replies. “I didn’t do anything.”

“What?” Buffy says.

Doyle snatches his hand back, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m heading home. Allergies, you know? Body hasn’t quite caught up to the fact that it’s returned to lovely Sunnyhell. “

From the Bronze, Buffy can hear some kind of commotion. Doyle brushes by her and Buffy thinks for a second she should follow, except for the fact that most disturbances in this town are of the demony variety.

“Are you serious?” Cordelia screeches to one of her friends… Harmony, Buffy thinks. She’s not exactly a pro at telling them apart.

Cordelia’s wearing a dark blue dress, clutching a pocketbook like a weapon, her hair short of its usual perfection. “A monster? You saw a monster in the _Bronze?_ ”

“I know you saw it too,” Harmony spits back as her boyfriend nods his head vehemently. “It was all spiky with red eyes.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia drawls. “And it was wearing a terrible Hawaiian shirt, too.”

“Oh my god,” Harmony says. “It totally was!”

“Harmony,” Cordelia says, “I want you to repeat after me very slowly. There’s no such things as monsters.”

Harmony looks like she’s about to obey, but then she stops and shakes her head. “I know what I saw.”

Cordelia throws her hands up in the air, catching sight of Buffy. “Tell her!” She gestures at Harmony. “No monsters, right? Because that’s crazy.”

“Monsters?” Buffy asks.  “Where?”

“I checked it out,” a new voice says, moving to Harmony. “There’s no red eyed demon running outside.”

“Angel?” Buffy says.

“Thank you!” Cordelia effuses.

“Seriously,” Angel says, meeting Buffy’s eyes. “No threat. It’s been taken care of.”

“If you guys are done being stupid,” Cordelia says, poking Angel in the stomach. “I’m going to go find Doyle.”

* * *

“I thought Cordelia was into Angel,” Willow says, sipping her coke through a straw. “I mean, look at him, tall dark and yum.”

“That’s what I thought too!” Buffy says. She eyes Cordelia’s friends but Cordelia hasn’t returned. Angel, uncomfortable with the attention had left minutes after her. “It’s just… I mean, I thought the vampire thing was bad enough, but now Cordelia and Angel are hanging out?”

“But not in a kissing kind of way, right? Because that’s still your territory.”

“I don’t know, Wills. They seemed pretty familiar. It’s weird, right?”

“Weird, yes. Hellmouth weird? I really hope not because I have a test tomorrow and I don’t know if I can handle something Hellmouth weird right now.”

“I think it has something to do with Doyle.”

Xander spots the both from across the club, getting jostled aside as he tries to make his way toward them. “Did you guys hear?” his drink sloshes onto the corner of his shirt. “People say there was a monster here tonight! Big red eyes! Spikes all over its face!”

“Yep,” Buffy observes dryly. “I can totally see the carnage he left in his wake.”

The music is loud and the band is good and Buffy’s with her two best friends instead of beating up vampires. She decides to let the weirdness with Cordelia slide for tonight.

* * *

The next day, Doyle has a seizure in history class.

Buffy’s seen vampires, she’s seen demons, she’s had far too much experience with viscera, but she’s never seen something quite like this. Doyle’s sitting on the side of the class closest to the window, staring outside instead of at the teacher. Buffy catches the movement out of the corner of her eyes as Doyle’s head snaps sideways, his hands flying to his temple. He jerks again and then falls from his seat, pulling his notebook down in a shower of paper.

Cordelia’s the first one to react, moving to crouch by his side, saying, “Doyle!  Doyle! Come on, Mr. Subtlety, snap out of it!”

The teacher at the front of the room, points to Xander and orders, “You! Go to the nurse’s office. Have them call an ambulance.”

It seems like it goes on for hours, but in all, it’s not even a minute before Doyle’s eyes clear enough to focus on Cordelia’s face. “That you, Princess?”

“Of course it is, doofus. You said you weren’t going to do your awkward spaz thing in public anymore.”

“Never been gifted with good timing,” Doyle replies.

“Mr. Doyle, please stay calm, an ambulance is on its way.”

“Ambulance?” Doyle sputters. “I can’t got to a hospital!”

“Shut up, you big baby. You had a _seizure_ , remember?”

“And I’m going to have bloodwork if I head to the hospital.”

Cordelia’s eyes wide fractionally, but by then the school nurse is there to usher Doyle out of the room.

* * *

Buffy goes to the hospital to visit after school. She doesn’t know what she expected. She’s never seen someone have a seizure before, but it had certainly looked like something serious. Only the nurse at the front desk told her Doyle’s uncle had come by to check him out and give him a ride home. “You just missed him,” the nurse says. “I think they were heading to the parking deck.”

Frowning, Buffy jogs to catch up. The deck is underground, probably well-connected to sewer access so that vampires have easy access to the blood bank. Speaking of…

“Angel?”

“Buffy,” he says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Visiting a friend,” Buffy replies. “I didn’t expect to see you awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Coffin’s aren’t the most comfortable.”

Buffy refuses to be amused but she can’t quite help it. The necklace Angel gave her is under her blouse, a built in failsafe just in case she was wrong about him.

“Angel!” Cordelia’s voice cuts through the parking garage and Buffy sees her head peak out through the tinted windows of a very black car. “Are we going already? Doyle’s looking you know, a little _green_.”

Buffy narrows her eyes. “Want to tell me exactly what’s going on here?”

“I was here investigating rumors of vampires stealing blood. Said I could give Cordelia and Doyle a ride home.”

“You do favors for Cordelia now?”

 Angel rubs at the back of his neck. “Not Cordelia so much.”

“Then you know Doyle?” Buffy stops as realization crosses her face. “Oh my God you were the uncle. You can’t be Doyle’s uncle. You’re like two thousand years old!”

“Two hundred. And it’s a long story.” Angel winces as a long blare from the car’s horn sounds through the parking garage. “One I don’t really have time for right now. There’s a situation, but we’ve got it handled.”

Buffy lets him go, too astounded to do anything else. A situation. That Cordelia is helping Angel handle.

* * *

The next day, Cordelia’s hair is six inches shorter and Doyle has nasty gash across his cheek. They sit across the room from each other, never quite looking at the other. Buffy watches them both until Willow reminds her that she’s devoting far too much brain power to the problem of  _Cordelia Chase_ . Xander rolls past her in the hall calling, “Hey Cordy, love the new haircut.”

Cordelia’s hand raises to her hair. “Oh god, if you approve, I have to shave the rest of it off and start from scratch.”

“Skinhead would be a good look for you!” Xander calls at her retreating back, before turning to Buffy and Willow. “What’s got her stopped up today?”

“I don’t care,” Buffy decides.

* * *

Only she does care.

She spends most of her nights fighting horrible monsters. She hasn’t told her mom the truth about her life since she lived in LA. She’s dangerously close to failing French. Sue her, she wants something she can understand.

And before Doyle moved back into town, Cordelia was someone she could understand.

The only other thing she understands is… monsters.

She gets lucky on the monster front. Turns out old red eyes that Harmony saw at the Bronze wasn’t just Harmony making up some story. Buffy shouldn’t have dismissed it to start with. Harmony may be a vapid airhead, but she’s also lived in Sunnydale her entire life without dying. Her instincts can’t all be bad. As for Angel’s blasé dismissal… well she doesn’t have to listen to vampires.

Red eyes, spiky face and from what the eye-witnesses Buffy finds tell her, creeping through the town like he’s afraid someone will notice him. And, well, Buffy has noticed. In her experience demons creeping around like some kind of creepy stalky thing means some big-time nasty.

Honestly, taking out her frustration on some demon beats worrying about the Master lurking under the town and trying to break into the world. She’s almost looking forward to it. She’s even got a tip about a demon bar with a human owner that’s more than willing to talk with the right incentive.

Angel catches her before she even gets there. “Buffy, I’ve heard you’ve been asking around town about a demon.”

“Kind of comes with the job,” Buffy replies. “Funny how it works.”

“This demon, red eyes, spikes on his face…”

“That’s right.”

“It’s been taken care of,” Angel says. “He’s not a problem.”

“You don’t get to tell me that,” Buffy snaps. “I’m the slayer. I get to decide.”

“Buffy, he’s not a problem.”

“I don’t think I like that you apparently know him. Where is he?”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“Not your story? It’s a monster.”

“You think I’m a monster, too?”

“I don’t know anymore, but I’m not going to deal with you tonight.”

She leaves him in the cemetery and heads to the Bronze where the first thing she sees is Cordelia and Doyle talking with each other. “New perfume?” she asks while passing Cordelia, hating herself for noticing.

“Yes,” Cordelia says. “Seems short and dorky over here is allergic to my favorite.”

“I’m constantly awed by your sacrifices, Princess,” Doyle drawls.

“I’m a saint.” Cordelia rolls her eyes. “And while you’re completely weird. At least you’re not walking around sniffing people.” She glares pointedly at Buffy.

…Forget the Bronze. Buffy thinks sleep may be the better option.

* * *

She finds the red-eyed monster skulking in the shadows of the Bronze when she’s headed home, hands in the pockets of an oversized coat. Buffy draws her stake.

“Buffy!” her name rings out behind her and when she turns, Doyle’s standing there, wearing a brown leather jacket that’s at least three sizes too big for him. When she raises an eyebrow, he visibly flinches. “Okay, I really didn’t expect I’d actually get your attention.”

“I was kind of in the middle of something,” Buffy snaps, but a glance over her shoulder tells her that the demon is already gone.

“Sorry,” Doyle says reflexively. “I just wanted to apologize.”

“For what? Cordelia’s been the one with the parade of insults.”

“I’m not actually sure,” Doyle says. “And I’m definitely not apologizing for Cordy. She means every word. She’s genuine that way.”

“So you came out here to not-apologize to me about Cordelia.”

“I’m not a bad guy, you know,” Doyle says. “I mean I took a nip our two out of my ma’s liquor cabinet more than once and Cordelia’s my best friend, but it’s not like I’m some kind of evil demon.”

“I haven’t said more than three sentences before you today.”

Doyle falters, staring somewhere past Buffy’s right shoulder. “This was a stupid idea. Forget it.”

* * *

The next day Cordelia marches into the library, dragging Doyle behind her. Giles walks out of the stacks, polishing his glasses as Willow and Xander look up from neglected homework. Buffy slips off of the railing, hiding the stake she’d been whittling in her purse.

“Everyone’s been completely stupid,” Cordelia says. “Buffy, you’ve been trying to kill Doyle’s _dad_.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Xander leaps to his feet. “Buffy doesn’t kill people!”

Cordelia keeps one hand on Doyle who looks ready to bolt and with the other holds it up to about her height. “About yay high. Red eyes. Face somewhere between Pinhead and a porcupine. Demon.”

“Wait?” Xander says. “You saw Hellraiser?”

“Cordelia,” Doyle chastises. “Not that I don’t love our little heart to hearts, but that’s a little bit racist.”

“Racist?” Willow echoes.

“There’s no such thing as demons.” Buffy crosses her arms over her chest.

“Of course there’s demons!” Cordelia cries. “I’ve lived in Sunnydale my whole life and there’s no way this many people die in freak barbeque accidents. Vampires are real. Demons are real and while this one’s icky looking, he’s baked me cookies before. He’s not you know, all evil and grrr.”

Giles moves to the lower level of the library, face carefully neutral. “Cordelia, I’m not sure this is something you want to begin…”

“For God’s sake Doyle, just show them!”

Doyle pulls away from Cordelia. “Princess, you do realize vampire slayers aren’t historically kind to my kind of person.”

 _Vampire Slayer_. Buffy’s eyes widen. Cordelia somehow figured out she’s the slayer. _Cordelia._

“Don’t freak out and go all stabby, okay?” Cordelia orders.

Doyle sighs and then he sneezes.

And he changes. Spikes spring out of his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, but when he eases one open, it’s red, just like the monster outside the Bronze.

He’s also sixteen years old, wearing thrift store clothing and is scrawnier than Xander.

Xander scrambles back until he hits the railing. “Mother of god.”

“A brachen demon,” Giles observes moving closer. “I’ve never seen one that can do something like this.”

Doyle shifts and then he’s human again, eyes back to normal. “I’m only half demon. My dad’s side. Ma was young when she had me. When things got rough, she decided to head back to the mother country. They’re not so fond of folks like me. Especially after puberty came over rough.”

“Doyle sneezed and went all creature from the black lagoon,” Cordelia cuts in. “Blah blah, he got shipped off to live with his dad because apparently Ireland is super Catholic and not okay with you know, Doyle’s existence.  It’s a horrible miscarriage of justice or whatever.”

“It’s not all bad.” Doyle grins at Cordelia. “Got to see your lovely face again.”

Xander puts his hands up. “I’m still stuck on the fact that Doyle’s a demon.”

“ _Half_ demon,” Doyle stresses. “As in half _human_.”

“And Mr. Doyle barely counts as a demon. He watches HGTV and grows daisies.”

“Giles,” Buffy says. “Are they on the level or do I need to go find my fighting boots?”

“You can’t slay them!” Willow squeaks. “We’ve know them since we were six! They’re not evil.”

“Well,” Xander says. “Cordelia’s descended from hell itself, but Doyle here’s the one in question.”

“The Council has long been aware of certain peaceful demons, but the majority of them do not congregate in places like Sunnydale.”

“But he was all skulky!” Buffy protests. “Up to no good.”

Xander snorts. “I’d be skulky too with a face like that.”

Doyle winces. Cordelia smacks the back of Xander’s head. “That’s uncalled for. It’s not like he can help it.”

Willow clears her throat. “Maybe this is a stupid question, but why do this now? You know Buffy’s the slayer, but we had no idea about you. If you’re taking this big a risk, there’s got to be a reason.”

“I get these visions.” Doyle doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Of people in trouble.”

“Oh, we so do not have time for your whole speech. Doyle’s spaz attacks come with visions of the future and big surprise, some kind of big apocalypse is about to show up in Sunnydale. It’s all a little out of the scope of an Angel Investigations case. Do you want the tip or not?”

Buffy rubs her forehead. She doesn’t want any information about the apocalypse. Because if she understands this right, her vampire almost-boyfriend appears to have started a detective agency with a scrawny half-demon and _Cordelia Chase_. “Okay,” she says, figuring she’ll deal with the rest of it later. “Let’s hear it.”

Doyle takes a deep breath and starts to explain. His visions sound like slayer’s dreams, soft edges and vague feelings, but Buffy’s always been good at trusting her instincts. He shuffles his feet when he finishes, shoving his hands into his pockets. The cut on his face hasn’t healed yet and Buffy realizes he’s been fighting battles that should have been hers. Because he was afraid to ask the Slayer for help.

They’re going to figure out this mess and then Buffy’s going to have a nice long talk with Angel about drafting civilians into fighting monsters.

But for now at least, she’s going to enjoy having some extra help.


End file.
